


Ascension

by sal_si_puedes



Series: Lamen Week 2020 [3]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, M/M, Post-Canon, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: The night following his ascension, King Laurent receives a surprise.Written as a contribution to#lamen week 2020on tumblr - prompt Day 3: Disguise.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Lamen Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797085
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72
Collections: Lamen Week 2020





	Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you, Carrie, for the beta!

“Not too much paint,” said Damen, motioning for the palace servant to stop as he moved to dip the fine brush into the gold again. “The King doesn’t like it. Just a touch around the eyes and on the lips, that is enough.”

He lifted his gaze and looked at the image presenting itself right in front of him, and what he saw nearly made him blush. Part of him still couldn’t believe he had convinced himself to go through with this. But the new King deserved it, he deserved nothing but the best, so Damen wouldn’t offer him anything less than a slave’s First Night.

The jewelry adorning the slave’s dark curls was subtle, the gold on the strong, even face nothing more than a suggestive hint. The slave was wearing the cuff, of course, he was always wearing that, and around his neck there was a gold collar, a little more delicate than the one the slave had worn during the days of his captivity in Vere, but still very prominent and almost ridiculously bold. 

The slave would probably drop the thin layer of silk he was wearing as soon as he had entered the King’s chambers, Damen thought, or maybe he would wait until the King commanded him to take off the suggestive garment. For a moment, he contemplated having the slave go barefoot, but then he remembered how much he had liked the idea of Laurent keeping his sandals on in the baths at the Summer Palace so many months ago, and the slight pang of disappointment tugging at his chest when Laurent had taken them off, so the slave would wear sandals, Damen decided. He decided against the leash (the leash would have required a handler, and he didn’t want anyone else in the room but the King and his slave) but pointed at the golden nipple clamps with the thin connecting chain spanning a delicate bridge between them. 

“Those,” he commanded. “Put them on.”

The servant hesitated, holding the twin piece of jewelry in his trembling hands. 

“I said, put them on,” Damen repeated and took a step forward, careful to wear a smile on his face and no hint of a threat in his voice. He held his breath.

The servant inhaled deeply and obeyed. Then he cast his eyes to the floor, took a cautious step backwards and waited.

Damen dismissed him and looked at the slave’s image in the mirror one last time.

“That will do,” he said to himself, watching his reflection’s smile broaden, and his heart fluttered in anticipation. “That will do very well.”

For the last part of the preparations, he wanted to be alone. Traditionally, body slaves would perform that part, _preparing_ the pleasure slave, getting him ready for the use of the Exalted, but neither did he want to submit any poor servant to a task like that nor did he want anyone else touching him there ever again – anyone else but the man he was going to see in just a short while, the only man he would let have this, his King. 

He took his time and was deliberately generous with both oil and touch, still rather unused to both in that place, and by the time he was able to insert three fingers into his body, when he felt as loose and relaxed between his legs as he could imagine feeling, he slowly realized three things, much to his surprise: that his brow had furrowed in intense concentration, that he was quite out of breath, and that he was turned on and more than half hard already. He imagined the King touching him there, imagined how the King would feel inside of him, and the smile returned to his lips, chasing the frown away entirely.

The smile lingered on his face and in his mind as he made his way to the double doors leading to the King’s chambers. He had made sure that his preparations had taken place in the room adjacent to the King’s quarters so he wouldn’t have to walk the hallways of the fort like this, decked out as an Akielon pleasure slave.

His heart was beating in his throat when he knocked at the King’s doors. He was looking forward to what might unfold on the other side of those doors, so much he felt something akin to giddiness in his chest, but he admitted to himself that he was also a little nervous – if the King would like the gift Damen was going to offer him on the night of his ascension. If _he_ would. So, he held his breath until he heard a calm voice permitting him to enter.

The King was sitting on the reclining sofa, and he was reading, a goblet of water on the low table in front of him. He had undressed to only his pants and the thin linen undershirt, but the laces of his shirt and pants were still tied up, and he was still wearing his black leather boots.

Good.

Damen cast his eyes to the floor and sank to his knees as graciously as he could, prostrating himself in front of the King.

“Exalted,” he murmured, feeling a blush creeping onto his face. He could practically hear the King frown.

“What,” said the King, taking a step closer, bewilderment clearly audible in his voice. “what is this?”

Damen lifted his head, his palms still flat on the floor in front of him and looked at the King through the curls covering his eyes. He shouldn’t do that, he was well aware that he shouldn’t. A slave should never look directly at the King unless he was commanded to, but he simply couldn’t resist the temptation.

“I owe you…” He could feel himself blush even more under the King’s scrutinizing gaze. “I owe my King a First Night,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile. “I thought you might enjoy this,” he added when the frown furrowing the King’s brow eased a little. “I know you sometimes think about it. And… I sometimes think about it as well. About this.”

“You do?”

Damen nodded, and his smile broadened. “I do.”

The King took a deep breath and another step towards where Damen was kneeling and then another and another until he was standing right in front of him. He narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit and for just a moment, and then he nodded.

Damen’s heart jumped with triumph and joy, and he dared to hold the King’s gaze for another heartbeat, and then he cast his eyes to the floor again and lowered his head until his forehead touched the marble once more.

“This slave is yours,” he said, imagining the picture he had to make and the King regarding him with lingering bewilderment and growing wonder. “It is this slave’s honor to serve the Exalted on the night of his ascension. The Exalted owns this slave; he can do with this slave as he pleases.”

Damen’s voice felt strange on his tongue, it felt as if he really meant what he said. When his cock gave an intense twitch in reaction to what he had just offered, Damen realized, to his utter surprise, that he really had meant it, with all his heart. He wanted to give himself to the King, and he had never wanted anything more than he wanted this. 

With a pounding heart, he waited for the King’s first command. With a distinct clarity, a clarity that almost took his breath away, he knew what that command would be even before the King had uttered a single word, let alone moved.

“Kiss it,” the King said, his voice sounding different as well, laced with desire and stirring arousal. “Kiss my boot.”

Damen swallowed. When he raised his head a little from the floor, the King had moved his right foot forward, and the tip of his boot was almost touching the top of Damen’s head. It was elegant and slender, and the leather was polished to a splendid shine. It followed the curve of the King’s foot like a second skin, and for a moment Damen thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful. 

He moved slowly, deliberately, shifting his weight a little, until his lips were hovering over the King’s boot tip. He could see how his breath clouded the polished leather when he exhaled, and he blinked in amazement.

The King waited, silently, almost patiently. But Damen wouldn’t let himself be fooled by that.

He took another breath and leaned forward, bringing his lips to the leather, and when they finally touched it, the King drew in a sharp breath.

“You like this,” Damen murmured, his lips brushing against the smooth leather. He kissed the boot again, a little firmer this time, and he could feel the King’s body briefly tense and then relax again.

“Yes.”

Like the slave Isander had done so many months ago, in this very same fort, Damen let his lips brush over the bridge of the King’s foot and rubbed his cheek against the slender arch. The leather and the laces caressed his skin softly, and the King held his breath. One more kiss to the very tip of the King’s boot, and Damen stilled, awaiting the King’s next command. When it didn’t come, after a long while, he dared to speak.

“What now,” he asked, and waited again. “Exalted.”

“Rise—” Laurent cleared his throat and withdrew his foot. “Rise to your knees. Kneel for me.”

Damen complied, rising and sitting back on his heels, resting his hands on his upper thighs, palms facing upwards. He waited.

“Up,” Laurent said, crooking his finger and placing it under Damen’s chin. “Look at me.”

Damen rose to a kneeling position as if kneeling in front of a throne and raised his head. 

Laurent was regarding him with guarded eyes, his lips tightly closed and a slight hue of pink on his cheeks.

When their eyes met, it was like a fist to Damen’s gut, and by the looks of it, to Laurent’s as well. 

“You look—” Laurent ran his thumb over Damen’s lips, little specs of paint sticking to his skin. “You’re beautiful.” He tilted his head. “Slave. What is your name?”

“Exalted is free to call this slave whatever he wishes,” said Damen, his eyes mesmerized by the traces of paint on Laurent’s thumb. If Laurent ran his thumb over his cheek right now—

And then Laurent did just that. A smudge of gold on his cheek, a trace of Laurent’s deliberate caress. Remainders of a touch.

Damen gasped.

“I think I shall call you Damen, then,” said Laurent, smiling. “I think I shall call you Damen.”

All Damen could do was hold Laurent’s gaze for another moment before he had to look away, shaken by the raw intensity shining in Laurent’s eyes.

“Open your mouth.”

When Damen didn’t comply immediately, Laurent brought his thumb to Damen’s mouth again and pressed softly against his lips.

“I said, open your mouth.”

He pushed down on Damen’s lower lip a little, prying Damen’s mouth open with gentle pressure. 

“Like that. Good.”

The lips of Laurent’s index and middle fingers ran over Damen’s lower lip, then over his upper lip, and over his lower lip again, playfully, teasingly, and then Laurent pushed his fingers past Damen’s lips a little and into his mouth.

“Take my fingers into your mouth,” Laurent ordered calmly, albeit with a slight tremble in his words, “and suck on them. Make me fee—Show me how much you want this.”

Damen couldn’t help but smile around Laurent’s fingertips. He had noticed many times before that Laurent’s fingers were very sensitive, and he knew how strongly Laurent could react when he paid attention to them. So, he was more than eager to comply with Laurent’s wishes.

He took Laurent’s fingers into his mouth and closed his lips firmly around them. Then he proceeded to let his tongue run over Laurent’s skin in caressing licks, teasing Laurent with what might be in store for him later.

Laurent stared at Damen in utter fascination, his lips now slightly parted and his eyes glittering with growing want.

“Like this,” Laurent murmured, biting his lips. “Just like this…”

When Damen began to suck on Laurent’s fingers, Laurent’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and from the corners of his eyes Damen could see how Laurent’s free hand fisted into the material of his pants.

“Take off your silks,” Laurent said, and his voice trembled with the effort to get those words out without a stutter.

Damen, even more eager to abide by Laurent’s wishes than he had been before, quickly loosened the cord around his waist, and then he unfastened the clasp at his collar holding the silks up. The thin, light cloth fell from his body as if it were nothing. As if it were less than nothing. 

Laurent froze. 

Damen’s eyes were left alone as Laurent’s graze dropped to his chest. For the first time that night, Laurent saw the nipple clamps. For a moment, Laurent’s eyes lingered there and then they travelled further downwards, to Damen’s groin. 

Damen was fully roused, as he had been ever since Laurent had ordered him to kneel for him. No, that wasn’t true. He had risen to full hardness the moment Laurent had accepted the premise of Damen’s disguise and had ordered him to kiss his boot.

“The picture you make,” Laurent breathed, pushing his fingers a little further into Damen’s mouth. “The paint, your mouth, you—”

The tips of Laurent’s fingers touched the back of Damen’s tongue, and Damen almost gagged, coughing and swallowing around Laurent’s fingers, a thin trail of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Laurent withdrew his fingers almost immediately, casually cupping his crotch as he did so. He was hard as well, and painfully so, it seemed.

“Unlace me,” Laurent said, his voice hoarse with desire. “Take me into your mouth. Make me come.”

Never in all the Northern Winters had Damen expected that his fingers could be so swift and efficient, not even after all those weeks of attending the man that stood before him now. He undid the laces at the front of Laurent’s pants in what seemed like no time at all, and Laurent was spilling himself down Damen’s throat mere moments later, fucking Damen’s mouth with rapt abandonment. The intensity of Laurent’s climax nearly pushed Damen over the edge as well, and he swallowed everything Laurent had to give. Only when the waves of Laurent’s release ebbed, Laurent’s cock still hard and hot in his mouth, did Damen notice that Laurent’s fingers had fisted into his hair and that Laurent’s breath was coming in ragged gasps.

Damen grinned around Laurent’s cock, and Laurent raised his eyebrows and slowly withdrew.

“You like that,” Laurent murmured, clearly amused. “You like making me come like that.”

Damen nodded, casting his eyes to the floor demurely.

“Yes, Exalted.”

The grip of Laurent’s fingers on Damen’s hair loosened, and Damen sank back onto his heels. Only then did he realize that he had taken himself in hand as well, his fingers sticky with the clear fluid that had seeped from his cock, a distinct messenger of his own arousal threatening to crest.

“Do you want this slave’s First Night now, Exalted?” Damen felt ridiculously bold asking that. He could feel how he actually blushed. “It’s yours. This slave is prepared for you to use him at your pleasure.”

“You—”

Even though Damen’s eyes were still downcast, Damen knew exactly how Laurent was looking at him now, eyes wide with surprise and lips red and parted in awe. 

“Yes,” said Damen, blushing even more deeply. “I am.”

“Show me,” Laurent whispered. “Let me see.”

Damen turned around, his hard cock brushing against the hot skin of his stomach as he bent over and spread his legs and then used his hands to spread open his cheeks. He waited. Laurent didn’t move for the longest time, and Damen closed his eyes, imagining the look on Laurent’s face and the way Laurent held himself, his erection protruding from his unlaced pants and a light sheen of sweat covering his face and throat. His slender fingers maybe loosely curled around his erect cock. It took all the effort Damen could muster not to take himself in his hand again as well.

“You—”

Laurent cut himself short again, and a moment later the lightest of touches brushed over the entrance to Damen’s body. 

“You are prepared.”

Damen nodded, biting his lips, but he couldn’t quite stifle the moan that forced its way from deep within his chest when Laurent’s finger breached his entrance and pushed inside.

“I’m yours,” Damen murmured, willing his body to relax around Laurent’s probing intrusion. It felt good, though, Laurent’s finger inside of him. It felt right. Damen had to bite his lips hard to keep Laurent’s name from falling from his lips. 

Laurent chose that exact moment to withdraw his finger, and he let his hand stroke over the small of Damen’s back and over the curves of his ass as well in a calming caress before he spoke again.

“Turn around.”

Damen did, keeping himself upright on his knees as he faced Laurent once more. He made sure to keep his eyes averted, but Laurent was having none of that.

“Look at me.”

Damen did.

“I want this. I want you, and I want your First Night. I couldn’t name a single thing in the world I have ever wanted more.”

_Not even to kill me back then?,_ Damen thought, _after Marlas?,_ but he didn’t say it. The look in Laurent’s eyes told him otherwise.

“I just—” Laurent paused, clearly giving himself time to think. It seemed impossible to Damen that Laurent still had the capacity to think at all, clearly still aroused and eager to proceed with whatever Damen would offer him. Almost whatever.

“I don’t want this tonight. Not like this,” he said, running his thumb over Damen’s lips again. The tenderness in his voice was devastating and it touched Damen’s heart so deeply it hurt. “I want it when you’re you.”

Somewhere, at the very back of Damen’s lust-fogged mind, that even made sense.

“How will you have me then,” he managed to say, drowsy with arousal and his body’s need for completion. “Exalted,” he added, remembering the part he was playing almost a little too late.

“Undress me,” said Laurent, “and then show me everything an Akielon pleasure slave can do. Mount me and fuck me like you always wanted to, back on the road, back in Arles.”

_I can do that,_ Damen thought. He could do that, and that Laurent would let him, just like that, drew another strangled moan from his lips. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands to work.

“Yes,” he said as his fingers were already busy untying the laces of Laurent’s shiny leather boots. “As you wish. My King.”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](https://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come and say "Hi!"!


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